


Magic, Tainted Beasts, and Tuesdays

by danceswithhamsters01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Awakening Anders - Freeform, Gen, Shapeshifting, The Warden trying to sneak out of dealing with nobles, scouting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 20:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17128205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Warden-Commander Amell has decided to go out scouting for darkspawn in her arling. One of her Wardens insists on coming along. Old friends begin to catch up and one learns something new about the other.





	Magic, Tainted Beasts, and Tuesdays

Vigil’s Keep, 9:31 Dragon

 

_Tent, bedroll, rations, water-skins, pencils, paper, ink, quills. Yes, all there. Wait, hmm… ah yes. Would’ve been silly to leave without a blanket for the horse!_ She chuckled to herself as she double checked her packs before slinking off to the stables.

 

She managed to avoid nearly everyone as she made her way away from her quarters. She took an out of the way route, going down a set of stairs probably meant for servants’ use back when the Howes still ruled the arling. She almost made it outdoors before she was stopped by a familiar fire-maned warrior. He stood in front of the door, arms crossed and a smirk playing at his lips. Were she not spoken for, she would’ve easily admitted that he looked rather handsome in a suit of armor.

 

“Going somewhere, Commander?” Roland asked, green eyes twinkling with mirth.

 

She froze in place, on the final step before reaching the stone floor. It wouldn’t do any good to lie. For one, she had a rather full pack on her back, and a horse blanket rolled up in one hand and her ice magic enhancing staff in the other.

 

“Yes. Yes, I am. Scouting, as a matter of fact. Looking into reports of darkspawn activity in the less populated areas. Never know when some sort of cave in or what-have-you opens up another hole for the blighters to come crawling out of,” she said quickly.

 

“Alone?” he arched a red brow.

 

“I’m hardly helpless, you know this. I’ll be fine. As I said _just_ scouting.”

 

“And I suppose this has nothing _at all_ to do with Bann Esmerelle’s impending visit?” he grinned.

 

She wanted to shudder and spit at the same time. Even thinking of the woman made the mage feel… unclean. The bann of the city of Amaranthine was many things; a good person and pleasant company were not among them.

 

“Unfortunate timing, it is true. But Grey Warden business takes priority. What sort of commander would I be if I didn’t do my fair share of grunt work, yes?”

 

That particular bit of bull crap earned a snort from the big man. “Fine. _Fine._ Have it your way. Nathaniel and I will deal with the snake in women’s clothing. We may not be as… diplomatic as you try to be, however. And I’ll expect some sort of favor for this.”

 

“My dear Constable Gilmore, if you and Warden Howe are anything _less_ than the pettiest you can both possibly be with her, I shall be very disappointed!”

 

A booming laugh answered her as he stepped aside. “Don’t get into too much trouble. You’re supposed to share the fun now, remember? King’s orders.”

 

She shot a grin his way before ducking out the door and making a beeline for the stables. The smell of horse, hay, and muck assaulted her nose. Sevarra bit her lip to distract herself. She was still getting used to how much animals could… well, stink. Growing up in a Circle had made her particular about smells. It was a very rude awakening, to say the least, when she discovered that most people didn’t seem to bathe daily. Being the owner of a sensitive sense of smell had not really been a blessing during the Blight. She still shuddered at the memory of one of Alistair’s rank socks “accidentally” finding its way into her washing.

 

Most of the horses and the lone “battle ram” in the stable paid the Warden no mind as she passed them by. The ram was the only creature that would allow Oghren to ride it, and they seemed to take great pleasure in ramming foes on the field. Finally, in the furthest corner of the stable, stood the stall that most avoided, other than to offer the beast within food and water and to muck it out. A rough sounding whinny rang out as the occupant smelled its guest before seeing it. The wooden gate showed many signs of abuse and repair. Most of the abuse came from the inside, courtesy of hooved feet. How it still stood was really both miracle and mystery.

 

“Ah, there you are, sweetie,” the commander cooed to the small chestnut mare in the stall.

 

She held out half an apple toward it. Cautiously, the little mare approached, sniffed her gloved hands, and then began nibbling at the treat. Nibbler, as she was called for her tendency to nip most people and animals to get too close to her, whickered softly once she was done with the apple. The Warden gently rubbed the mare’s white blaze before she unrolled the blanket and settled it on to the beast. Her saddle and other trappings were in a wooden chest nearby. She had just finished strapping the saddle into place and had gone digging for the bridle when a voice made her squeak and spin around.

 

“Aren’t you supposed to have a bodyguard with you or something? You always get on our cases about using the ‘buddy system’ when we go out, after all.”

 

Nibbler squealed, ears flat. She pawed the ground beneath her, fixing the intruder with a glare. Sevarra and their guest both winced in pain. Once the horse had gotten the fit out of her system, and the Commander’s ears stopped ringing, she took a moment to regard the voice’s owner. There stood a wincing Anders, in a new-to-him Grey Warden magi uniform, a staff in one hand and the other softly glowing with a touch of healing magic as he tended to first his left and then his right ear.

 

“I may have said words to that effect,” she replied. “I’m just going to do a bit of scouting. Nothing that warrants a full party. I’ve no plans to fight anything beyond any bandits stupid enough to attack me.”

 

_Maybe he’ll buy the story, maybe he won’t._

 

He arched a honey blond brow. “Then you won’t mind if ‘just’ another mage comes along with you, seeing as you intend to ‘avoid’ trouble. An extra dash of magic wouldn’t hurt to have around. You avoid trouble about as well as Oghren avoids ale.”

 

_No story-buying to be had today. Fine._

 

She jerked a thumb back over her shoulder at Nibbler. “She only tolerates one rider at a time. That one rider being me. Do you know your way around a horse?”

 

Hesitation flickered in his golden brown eyes. “It can’t be all that difficult.”

 

Both Commander and horse snorted.

 

“Go pack up for a few days. I’ll see if I can talk Leslie into letting me take one of the older, calmer steeds along. Be back within an hour.”

 

Two hours later, a pair of Warden mages rode out of the gate and out into the open roads of the arling. Anders clung uncertainly to the reins of the deep brown gelding she’d sweet-talked from the stable master. He’d been given a brief lesson on how to ride a horse, but was clearly still out of his comfort zone. It was a good thing that the gelding was an older, mellow animal that was more than content to follow several paces behind the spirited Nibbler.

 

“I don’t see why you let the dog come along,” he complained. It would seem he wasn’t yet comfortable being around the war-hound who was at least the size of a pony.

 

“His name is Fang and he’s _my_ mabari. Or rather, I’m his human. He picked me out. They’re smart, those mabari. He knows what you’re saying. He’s a war veteran.” Fang barked as if to agree with her.

 

“Besides, he’s great to have along when hunting or fighting. He’s helped kill his fair share of darkspawn, including ogres. And dragons.” Another bark of agreement.

 

That first day, they traveled in a westerly direction. Other than scaring off some bandits intent on robbing a merchant wagon train that was traveling the North Road, they found nothing of note. The merchants, from neighboring Highever, were awestruck that the Arlessa herself and one of her Wardens had been their rescuers. She shrugged off the feeling of frustration that first night as they made camp. She hadn’t found so much as a paw print, yet. She was sat cross-legged while hunched over a map of the arling, making notes in her book when he drew her attention with a loud sigh as he plopped himself down by the campfire.

 

“Well, that was… something,” he said as he shucked off his brigandine coat, inspecting it for any damage before folding it up.

 

She hummed in reply, eyes still fixed on the map.

 

“We killed four bandits and scared the other six off and all you can say about it is ‘hmm?!’ Maker’s breath, what’s happened to you?”

 

She looked up to see his concerned expression. “For some people, that’s exciting. For me, it’s merely another Tuesday.”

 

“And I suppose the fact that it’s still Wednesday for a few hours doesn’t factor into anything?”

 

That drew a laugh from her. “A year and some change ago, I would be cowering under my blankets. Between Loghain and the Blight, I got to the point of not taking it personally when people try to kill me. Far too many people in the world seem to prefer stabbing instead of talking things out like civilized beings.”

 

“And do you prefer to ‘stab first’ instead of talking these days?” His eyes searched hers, making no pretense of hiding the note of worry.

 

Her expression softened. “No. If I had my way, there would’ve been no civil war, no Blight, no criminals looking to profit off of the misery of others. I would’ve just been a simple healer after my Harrowing, like I wanted.”

 

She sighed and rolled up the map, stowing it away in one of her pouches. “But the world doesn’t seem to care much about what I want. So I’ve gotten a little bit better at telling the difference between those who could be made to talk and those who are just out to stab, as it were. Those bandits? They were the ‘stab’ sort of people. Do I regret killing the ones we did? No. Do I wish we didn’t have to resort to violence? Yes.”

 

The explanation seemed to mollify him at least a bit. “So, why are we really out here?”

 

She cursed internally. The downside of growing up in the Circle together: he had more experience to draw upon when detecting which of her stories were nothing but fact and which had been… embellished to varying extents.

 

“As I said: scouting out darkspawn nests and such.”

 

“And?” he prodded.

 

“Other… tainted beasts.”

 

“Why? To put them down, too? You certainly seem to take this job seriously.”

 

She bit her lip. “That’s only one part of it. I’m looking to study them.”

 

He tilted his head and shot her a questioning look.

 

“I have my reasons, okay? Getting a greater understanding of them can’t hurt anything!”

 

“What is there to understand about them? They get the blight sickness, go mad and attack anything that gets too close. Oh, and they can spread the disease while they’re at it, too.”

 

She grumbled and stood up, heading for her tent. “As I said, I have my reasons. You’re the one who wanted to come along. Not my fault if you get bored.”

 

They had a quick breakfast of dried fruit and meat at sunrise the following morning and broke camp soon after. They traveled north until midday, when the all-too-familiar tingle of darkspawn danced on the edge of their awareness.

 

“So much for boredom,” he smirked as he brought his staff into a ready position after extracting himself from his saddle.

 

After ordering Fang to guard the horses, Sevarra slid out of her saddle and charged her staff with magic, making the air around them take on a noticeable chill. Soon enough, genlocs and a lone hurloc emissary poured into view from a cave in the nearby hills. The genlocs went down quickly enough, first being frozen in place and then meeting their doom by a well-placed fireball or two.

 

Anders stopped for a moment to catch his breath and looked around. He could sense the hurloc was around, but could not see it. With a jolt of panic, he realized that he didn’t see Sevarra around, either.

 

“Sev? Scream once if a darkspawn’s trying to eat you,” he called out, pulling on more Fade-energy, getting more alarmed as the seconds ticked by.

 

He heard a scream all right, but it wasn’t from a woman. He spun around and froze in panic. The errant emissary had been found by what looked like a very pissed off black bear. The bear rose up on its back legs and slapped out with a paw, knocking the darkspawn to the ground. The darkspawn screamed again, only for the bear to trample it and roar in its face. A moment later, the creature ripped out the darkspawn magic-user’s throat.

 

_Andraste’s teats, since when did bears attack darkspawn?!_

 

The bear, seemingly convinced that the darkspawn was dead, leisurely strolled up to the mage and huffed a breath at him. He didn’t know if he should run in a panic or move very, very slowly. He was paralyzed by indecision for what felt like minutes when a flash of light blinded him for a few moments. Once he was able to blink away the colorful spots that had flooded his sight, he gasped in surprise. In front of him stood his Commander, wearing a maniacal grin. Unable to contain herself any longer, she burst into laughter.

 

“Oh, Maker! The look on your face was priceless!” she cackled.

 

Indignation helped him find his tongue. “That-that… roaring in its face, ripping its neck out… that was YOU?! Maferath’s balls, how’d you become a sodding BEAR?!”

 

“Magic,” she said simply with an all-too-pleased grin.

 

“Well, that bit was obvious, but… HOW?! They never taught that trick in the Circle!”

 

“You’re right, they don’t. There aren’t even books about it in the forbidden part of the library.” She paused. “Oh don’t give me that look! Irving let me get away with a lot of things. Breaking into that section was one of the few things he wasn’t aware of. Nothing that struck my fancy in there, anyways.”

 

He gave her another look, lips pressed into a thin line, patience clearly waning.

 

“Fine, fine. A witch of the Wilds taught me.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“They’re real, not just creepy old legends to scare children into behaving. A pair of them saved my life after the defeat at Ostagar. Only reason I’m standing here, really. The younger one came along with us to stop the Blight. Or rather, her mum sent her along. I… made friends with her and she taught me a little bit about shapeshifting. I’m nowhere near as good as either of them at it, but I know a little bit, as you just saw.”

 

She brushed a bit of hurloc from her armor as if it were dust then began walking toward the horses. He stood there blinking for several heartbeats, letting the dense chunk of information attempt to settle into his brain. He shook his head, gripped his staff and trotted to catch up with the Commander.

 

After finding the cave the darkspawn had erupted from earlier and causing a small magically-made earthquake to seal it up with fallen boulders, the Wardens began wandering the hills, idly seeking any further signs of their prey. Nothing stood out to them by the time the sun began to set that evening. They made camp in silence. A bit of fresh meat was roasting on a spit over the fire. He’d taken the liberty of snaring a hare.

 

“So, let me get this straight,” he said after taking the meat down and splitting it between themselves and the mabari, “you’re tracking tainted animals on purpose?”

 

“Yup,” she said after swallowing a bit of meat and wiping her mouth off on her glove. “I need to study them. After that, I’ll need to put them down, of course.”

 

“Why? I mean, I know why we need to put them down.”

 

She took her time, scarfing down all but a couple bites of her share before answering. “So I can fight like them. They’re much stronger than the non-tainted members of their species. Much like Grey Wardens.” She shot a grin his way.

 

“But why do you want to fight like an animal? Isn’t your own magic good enough?” he asked.

 

She pursed her lips in thought for a few moments before answering. “It’s not a matter of my own skills not being ‘good enough.’ I learned this magic, it is part of my collection of skills now. Any mage worth her or his salt practices, studies, and researches to get better. A bear is powerful. A tainted bear is even more powerful. Doing what we do, more power is not a bad thing.”

 

“Power for the sake of power? That’s a dangerous line to walk. You’ve seen what happened to people using that excuse,” he said.

 

She looked him in the eye, gaze sorrowful. “It’s not for the sake of power itself. We’re protectors now. People like us, we’re the one thing protecting the people from darkspawn. The civil war taught me that nobles and politicians are only too happy to let the world burn and leave innocents to die if it means they can get even a tiny bit of an advantage over their rivals.”

 

She finished the last of her meal before continuing. “Sometimes, you’ll run into a particularly stupid breed of Templar, such as the late Ser Rylock. Rather than quake in fear of idiots like her, wondering when I’ll feel the next Holy Smite that’ll make me wish for death as a relief from the pain, why not change into a form that cannot be hurt that way? A bear doesn’t have mana, therefore nothing for a templar to drain.”

 

He grunted in distaste at the mere mention of the Templar that had tried to arrest him, even after he’d officially become a Grey Warden. He was all-too-familiar with abuse at the hands of those that most saw as protectors.

 

“I guess I could see the appeal of that,” he said after a while, meal nearly forgotten in his lap. The growl of his stomach sharply reminded him to finish his food. He still was getting used to his hunger being more demanding that it had in his old life.

 

“I do have a favor to ask,” she said as she broke the silence.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Don’t tell Velanna about my… little trick. I think it would make her hate me even more than she already does. I think my knowing a bit of ‘old magic’ that she does not would make her implode. That, or drive her bonkers. Either way, not something I care to witness.”

 

He snorted. “Fair enough. I’m amazed she hasn’t set anyone in the keep on fire. Yet.” He paused to think a moment. “But I think she might have enjoyed something like this, to be honest.”

 

She frowned. “Maybe. But… I can’t really trust her to have my back. Not yet. Not until she trusts me. And she seems dead-set on not trusting anyone who happens to not be an elf.”

 

He arched a brow at her, frowning. “You can’t trust her until she trusts you? Sounds like you’ll be in stuck in that stand-off for a long while, then. One of you is going to have to give, eventually.”

 

“I know,” came with a grumbling sigh.

 

The next morning, they headed southward toward the Knotwood hills. It was there that she finally had a bit of luck. Another cave with darkspawn was found and dealt with. After causing a cave-in, they explored the surrounding woods. She tugged on his sleeve with excitement and a finger in front of her lips. He followed her line of sight and shuddered.

 

It was _hideous._ And massive. It might’ve been a bear, once. There were patches of its hide that still held fur, but most of it was jagged and torn and sometimes not even _there._ At seemingly random points, bony spikes jutted out from the thing’s skin. Its eyes were clouded over as it took in the scenery around it. He could sense the touch of blight-induced corruption in it. Blood dribbled to the ground as it lumbered along. The smell was… awful, to put it diplomatically.

 

“ _That’s_ what you’ve been searching for?” he hissed to her. They were ducked behind some shrubbery, a good distance away from the beast.

 

She nodded, not taking her eyes from it, looking utterly enchanted. “I’m going to follow it a while. You can stay with the horses, if you want” she whispered.

 

“I’ll take my chances with your devil-mare,” he replied.

 

Several hours later, the excited barking of the mabari preceded the arrival of his mistress. She came back looking the worse for wear, gloves torn, bits of her brigandine coat fluttering behind her in tatters, rips and tears in her leather breeches, and hair out of place.

 

“Looks like you had fun,” he said.

 

“The bereskarn took offense to my presence after I watched it kill a few bandits. I had to put it down. It tried to convince me to rethink that idea.”

 

“How’d that go?”

 

She tossed a few yellowed claws to the ground next to where he sat.

 

“Here, they’ll make a nice necklace.”

 

He sat up. “You killed that sodding thing by yourself?”

 

“It was tough. Fang and I were tougher. Weren’t we, boy?”

 

The hound wagged his stumpy tail and yipped. The beast looked rather pleased with himself.

 

“Let’s rest up and head back to the keep in the morning. My armor’s certainly done for. I don’t relish the idea of facing another one in my smalls.”

 

She tried unsuccessfully to shoo him away when he came over to investigate her injuries. Lacerations ran along her arms, legs, and back. None of the wounds looked deep. All the same, he clucked his tongue and tended to the injuries that she couldn’t reach. A soft hiss of protest escaped her when a cold, wet cloth ran along the cut on her middle back.

 

“You could’ve patched yourself up, you know.”

 

“I was a bit distracted,” she grumbled. “And low on mana. The arse had given Fang a good nip. I had to tend to him first.”

 

He spared a glance at the war dog, who sat panting near his mistress, not even a patch of fur out of place. The smudges in his white kaddis were the only sign he’d been in some sort of scuffle. He shook his head. She was entirely too attached to that hound.

 

When they rode into the Vigil’s gates late the following afternoon, Roland was there with crossed arms, waiting. He scowled once he noticed the rather tattered condition of Sevarra’s armor. He practically lifted her off the horse, making a very terrified stable hand take Nibbler’s reigns and lead the rusty beast away, much to the animal’s disapproval.

 

“ _Just_ scouting, my arse! Did you find an occupied dragon nest to play in or something?” the Warden-Constable sighed.

 

“If I said ‘yes,’ would you be upset that I didn’t take you along?” she grinned cheekily. The grin vanished after he set her down, jostling one of the cuts on her right leg, making her wince.

 

“Actually, we found a couple of caves that darkspawn were using to get to the surface. They’ve been taken care of,” Anders piped up.

 

Sevarra offered her Constable an ‘ _I told you so_ ’ look.

 

Roland arched a brow. “Fine. Oh! Before I forget. Bann Esmerelle has invited you to her Summer Salon. I told her you’d be delighted to go. Nathaniel will be your ‘plus one’ for the event.”

 

She squinted one eye and regarded the red-bearded man, who, up until that moment had been one of her good friends. “Say what?”

 

“Esmerelle’s Summer Salon. You’re going. I’m calling in my favor. I had to suffer through the last one.”

 

She slumped her shoulders in defeat. _Maybe I should’ve stayed out scouting longer and found another bereskarn to put me out of my misery,_ she thought.

 

“A fancy party with stinky cheeses, bad wine, and a worse hostess. You’re cruel. When does it start?”

 

“Tomorrow at sunset.”

 

Sevarra whimpered.


End file.
